In These Arms
by Cupe
Summary: The candle casts a warm golden glow over Flynn's body, bringing out the umber highlights in his hair and the creamy hue of his skin, and Yuri has to sit back and just appreciate the man Flynn is growing into. Yuri/Flynn. Fluff and sex.


**_(Author's Note: Triumphant I return with offerings from a new fandom! Yes, I have finally begun playing Tales of Vesperia, after the copy has waited for me to be finished panicking over finishing cosplays. It is amazing, and the subtext is beautiful, and I couldn't not write these two gorgeous boys together. This was written for the prompt "music" on my table, but ended up suiting "months" a little better. Oh well.)_**

**In These Arms**

_I may never sleep tonight,_  
><em>As long as you're still burning bright.<em>  
><em>If I could trade mistakes for sheep,<em>  
><em>Count me away before you sleep.<em>

Dahngrest was never quite silent. Even in the thin hours between night and morning, the city seemed to have an audible ambiance that filtered through open windows and under the doors. Perhaps that was why Flynn found it hard to sleep, that, and knowing he was in the midst of the dragon's lair; an Imperial Knight, in the city of guilds, surrounded by murderers and thieves, and by those who simply believed that the Empire could do nothing for them. A small room at the inn, given at Don Whitehorse's discretion, to make up for his little show of having Flynn manhandled into a cell earlier that evening.

Flynn didn't so much as fear for his life, but for what would happen if he were to die. He had so much yet to do, and people were relying on him. Hanks, the others in the Lower Quarter, Yuri...

He rolled over, staring at the wall in the half-light, tracing the brittle cracks in the inoffensive off-white paint, and sighed deeply, rubbing his fingers through his hair. A dark shape passed by the window, and a throaty voice barked a harsh call that could have been a greeting, or the beginnings of a fight (another of Dahngrest's 'charms'). Flynn tensed reflexively, one hand groping his waist for a sword that sat a foot away by the headboard. He sighed, groaning softly and listening, heaving heavy footsteps then hacking laughter and the garbled not-words of a conversation fading away.

Not a fight then, good. He shook his head, quitely berating himself for even reacting as if his position as Lieutenant had any jurisdiction over the citizens here. If he intervened he'd be lucky to be laughed at and humiliated, but most probably given a hands-on demonstration of what most guild-members thought of the Knights. Perhaps he would have even ended up in the river, left to wash up on some beach and provide a meagre meal for some monster or other.

Flynn shuddered at the thought, huffing in annoyance and reaching for the blankets.

"What's gotten you so worked up?" Flynn's entire body jerked in surprise and a small, startled, not frightened, noise left his parted lips. The split-second of panic gives, and Flynn rises to his feet in a quick flash of a movement that had earned him repute in sparring, grasping for his sword, and flinches as something snaps at him. He turns sharply to face the figure, nothing more than a dark shape at the foot of his bed. It rears up suddenly and Flynn braces himself for attack, falling into a defensive stance, and the creature flops onto the bed, the mattress creaking in protest. Confused, but wary, Flynn raises his arm. The shape of the intruder gives him pause, and Flynn's fingers slackened his weapon,

"Yuri?" He whispered, incredulous. How had he gotten into the room without him noticing?

"The one and only." Flynn didn't need light to see the familiar smug grin on Yuri's face, and he growled in annoyance,

"What are you doing here?" The figure sat up, the meagre light from the window outlining his profile in reddish-orange. Yuri was pouting, his dark eyes locked onto Flynn's face,

"Isn't that my line, _Lieutenant_?" The reminder or his position made Flynn straighten up just a little bit, though the word sounded mocking in Yuri's mouth. Yuri moved, fiddling with something, and Flynn shields his eyes when light suddenly blinds him.

A candle. So he _had_ planned on staying.

Once his eyes stop stinging Flynn lowers his hand to glower at Yuri, to let him know he's really not happy about this intrusion, and that really, he's been worrying over the damned idiot, and now he just shows up in his bed, grinning and smirking as if he doesn't have 10,000 gald on his head.

"_Yuri_-"

"The bed's getting cold," Yuri interrupts, looking up at Flynn with that almost-smirk that Flynn can't quite resist, "and, you might want to put that down. You look ridiculous."

Flynn looks to his hand, and finds to his utmost embarrassment, that in his panic he had grabbed the post next to his sword, ripping the cheap wood from the rest of the bed frame. Oh. Flynn can feel himself blushing as Yuri doubles over in a strange judder-y dance as he tries to smother laughter.

"It's _not _funny." Yuri continues the lurching movements until Flynn raises the post again, holding his hands up defensively,

"Mercy, please!" He mocks, still grinning, slightly breathless and flushed, and that more than anything makes Flynn sigh and set his makeshift weapon down, sitting next to Yuri heavily. The tips of his ears are still red, which Yuri finds utterly endearing.

Slinging an arm around the blond, Yuri leans close, lightly nipping the shell of Flynn's ear, making him shiver, and not due to the breeze ambling in from the open window, "Don't complain, it's not like you were asleep anyway." He whispers, his warm lips brushing the suddenly hypersensitive skin, and Flynn can't find it in him to try and pretend that Yuri isn't right. So he ignores the soft, amused noise that leaves Yuri when he inclines his head towards him, sliding easily into arms that part just for him.

Yuri is warm, and soft, and the fabric of his jacket smells like earth, and something that is indescribable but undeniably home. Flynn takes a few moments to just feel Yuri's body against his and try not to think about how long it's been since he was last held like this. He's not sure, but it feels like too long, and he finds himself wanting, needing, Yuri closer.

Luckily for Flynn, Yuri is thinking the same thing, and it doesn't take long before their lips meet in a sloppy kiss. Time has worn down the memories of how they moved together, and the slide of lips and tongue is strange and second nature in the same beat. Flynn lets Yuri pull and push him onto his back and tug off his loose shirt, the garment falling from Yuri's hand once it's free of Flynn's body. Yuri presses kisses to his lover's chest, each burning like a brand before peaking in dizzying pain when he bites down on one of Flynn's nipples, pausing only to watch the way the latter's head snaps back in a silent cry.

The candle casts a warm golden glow over Flynn's body, bringing out the umber highlights in his hair and the creamy hue of his skin, and Yuri has to sit back and just appreciate the man Flynn is growing into. When he catches a glimpse of the admiration in Yuri's eyes, an expression so rare on his face, Flynn blushes, and Yuri's smile widens before he leans over to capture his lips again.

Yuri's clothing feels rough against his bare skin, but Flynn arches into it with a soft moan, feeling sensitive all over. Huffing in amusement, Yuri reaches to tug his belt free and discards it along with his jacket and shirt, not missing the way Flynn's eyes now move critically over him, inspecting the faint scars that hadn't been there before with his fingers. He meets Yuri's eyes in a silent question,

_Did it hurt? Did you suffer?_

Kissing him again, Yuri shakes his head, gently tackles Flynn to the bed and presses his crotch to Flynn's, having him forget his worries effectively. The groan that leaves Flynn is needy, and Yuri hastens his movements, wriggling them both out of the remainders of their clothing and pressing flush against the body beneath him.

Both men moan aloud at the press of bared flesh. Yuri shifts slightly and the friction is better than either remembered.

"You got a gel?" Yuri looks into Flynn's eyes, his fingers working over his skin, which makes it hard to answer him in a steady voice,

"O-on the table..." he motions vaguely, but Yuri gets the idea and reaches over for the pouch on the bedside table, the motion bringing his chest within reach of Flynn's mouth.

Revenge is sweet, and Flynn savours the surprised jolt that runs down Yuri's slender frame when he bites him. The noise Yuri makes isn't quite a moan, isn't quite a growl, but whatever it is, it makes Flynn's cock _ache_.

Seconds later and Yuri is kissing him again, hungry, and demanding. He knows what Flynn likes.

A brief pause, and Flynn listens as a few notes from a stringed instrument filter into the room from outside. He forgets trying to place the tune when the familiar sound of a gel package being ripped open interrupts, and he looks up at Yuri. Grinning, Yuri bites off a section of the red gummy, softening it in his mouth before transferring the jelly-like substance to his fingers via his tongue. Flynn opens his legs and settles back against the pillow, watching as much as feeling those fingers enter his body.

The gel soothes any pain there might have been, as well as making the intruding digits slide in and out with comfortable ease, and Flynn moans. Yuri watches him, his fingers remembering the familiar motions to make him writhe and squirm in ecstasy. It's a familiar scene, but one Yuri won't ever tire of: Flynn being overcome with desire. His cheeks are flushed the same dusky red as the head of his cock, and the candle's light picks out the thin coat of sweat across his body, accentuating the movement of muscles beneath his skin.

Yuri would never deny that Flynn is handsome, but in these moments he is beautiful, and perfect, and, mostly importantly, all _his_. For all his easy words and carefree nature, Yuri's not sure he could rest easy if he thought someone else had seen Flynn this way.

It doesn't take long for Flynn to be arching off the bed to meet each movement of those fingers, and his voice strained to a husky, constant plea. Yuri torments him for a moment longer, because it's beautiful to see the perfect Flynn Scifo dishevelled and begging, but he's growing impatient too. Flynn cries out when Yuri pulls his fingers free, his hips canting, offering himself wholly to the other man. Smiling, Yuri kisses his knee, mutters something about patience and virtues while he warms the rest of the gel between his fingers (apparently softening it in his mouth just being something he did to tease Flynn further) before liberally applying it over his prick, making a soft noise as the medicated substance tingled against his sensitive skin.

Flynn whines in impatience, reaching to grasp Yuri's forearm and tug him back over his body, glaring at the smug smirk on the latter's face. Before he can growl something a proper gentleman and knight wouldn't dream of saying, Yuri kissing him hard and slips his cock into him in one easy push of his hips.

He keeps his eyes open to watch the way Flynn's flutter closed and scrunch up as he adjusts to feeling so full, and whole, and _good_. Yuri doesn't give him much time to enjoy it, though, as it really has been far too long, and now there is urgency laced in the pleasure thrumming through his body. The first thrust makes Flynn grab messy handfuls of the sheets. The second parts his thighs wider, and by the third the blond knight is the picture of wanton abandon.

They fall into a rhythm too fast to be completely satisfying, by the rough edge to it is drawing moans and whimpers out of Flynn nonetheless, and that's all that matters. He orgasms quickly, his frame twitching with the sharp shocks of pleasure and grinding back to meet Yuri's hips, eager for more. Yuri is quieter in his pleasure. While Flynn is a mess of involuntary little noises, Yuri is all grunts and growls, sounding almost feral and bestial. Flynn thinks it's fitting of the base nature of the majority of their sexual encounters. Yuri thinks this is bullshit.

Flynn cannot deny that he likes it this way, though, it adding to the feeling of being entirely _possessed _by Yuri, and it's that sensation that brings him over the edge the moment Yuri's calloused fingers give his cock a rough squeeze. No sound leaves Flynn when he comes, just a heavy, shaking breath before his grip on Yuri and the bedsheets slackens and he sinks into the mattress a little more. Yuri grins lopsidedly and thrusts once, twice, more before he comes deep inside Flynn, holding himself over him for a moment as he recovers enough to pull out carefully.

Side by side they lie, panting harshly and grinning at each other, breathless, flushed, and completely pleased. Slinging an arm over his middle, Yuri draws Flynn close as the sweat begins to chill on his skin.

They fall asleep like that: curled into each other, the bed and their clothes sprawled around them in haphazard heaps. Dawn is peaking over the crests of the nearby mountains, and somewhere someone is playing a harmonica, their breath transformed into a mournful greeting of the sun, and the return of duties and roles to play.

Yuri will leave early, reluctantly, leaving Flynn with a final, bruising kiss, that will linger on both their lips for the coming day. Flynn will sigh and try not to be resentful of his busy schedule and the return to his life of rules and regulations.

Then he'll notice that Yuri has somehow fixed the bedpost, and left a note sarcastically reminding him to not pull the same trick if he ever was attacked by something in the middle of the night. Flynn will smile, and allow himself a chuckle at the smiley face Yuri has scrawled at the bottom of the page, and suddenly everything won't seem so bleak. They'll take the days as they come, until they can come together again.


End file.
